We dance, and sing, and pay taxes, and peel onions, and contemplate winning affections in portions of dinette sets and rolex pearlmasters and engagement rings and cross bows and weird disney figurines, and we stitch wounds, and stay noided, and mount comebacks, and serve detention, and shout "Primus Sucks!", and we eat sandwiches.
We ride horses, steal cheap jewelry, and smoke crack "a couple of times because, man, I had to know, it's crack", and hate our twin sisters, and get misled and patronized, and we manipulate, and vandalize, and watch Borat, and seek revenge, and drink malt liquor, and fall victim, and fall over, and reach drunken clarity, and get splinters, and lie, and drive into trees, and speak in a patois, and crash parties, and have sex on a picnic bench under a tin roofed awning in the pouring rain and we won't say a word, we promise, baby you can trust me.
We sniffle, and fight onward, and yawn, and clutch at our chests, and reminisce, and nod politely, and dry heave and bend the block one last time, but after that, I'm leaving, dude, this sketchy. But we keep circling and we hit the back, and plug our ears, and shout at the top of our lungs, and we blame ourselves, we hit the nail on the head, we wait for the ice machine. We thizz face, and panic, and splash mud, and tie up loose ends, and tear each other apart, and sit quietly. We smoke cigarettes. We break mirrors. We look up. We look down. We ask for help. We look left.
In the end, death comes like a squalling, maddened, long legged turd of a bird, light of foot with sky in his eyes, and devours us. Smile for the camera, jackass.
released May 20, 2016
It was the middle of the night, and we took a turn onto Kathleen Road. We stopped at her house. I tried one of the muffins she made me while she crept off to find a blunt heavy object. I never had muffins that tasted like absolute dogshit before.
11 ft. tall dragon, born without arms but with a sweet gumby. friends with a walrus who kicks snowflakes, but with no
offense intended. currently in a fridge, reading comic books and holding palaver with long dead martian faith healers. mendalas? yeaaahh we got that. go with god, y'all....more